The Sleepover

by Carol Wyer

‘Yes. And cash was put into his current account the day before each purchase.’

  ‘He was getting money from somebody, putting it into his account then using it to buy the drugs?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s helpful or has clouded it further, but thanks anyway.’

  ‘I have more. We’ve examined the area around the oak tree where we found his body. There’s definitely evidence of activity in as much as there is significant bark deposit at the foot of the tree where it fell away from the trunk, presumably because it was kicked or knocked by whomever tied the rope around the branch. There are bald patches on the branch where the rope was tied, but we’ve examined Habib’s clothing for any bark residue and found very little. He definitely didn’t climb up the tree. Somebody did, but not him. We still can’t fathom out how he was strung up. There’s nothing to indicate a pulley was used. If it had been, we’d have had significant patterns of wear and tear on the branches – they’re old and quite brittle in parts – but there’s nothing. We can’t find any prints or marks that would indicate somebody used steps or even a ladder. It’s proving testing.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll work with what we’ve got for now and wait for Pinkney’s report.’

  Mike sounded so weary and flat, she wanted to say something to lift his spirits, to prove she understood and appreciated his dedication, but Ian was nearby so she could only thank him again and return to her thoughts.

  Lucy and Murray were on the doorstep of the flat at Pine Way. Charlie Curtis stood in front of them, his legs planted and hands tucked under his armpits. There was nothing obeisant about his stance.

  Lucy appealed to him again. ‘We need to ask you a few questions about Habib Malik,’ she said. She sensed him bristle at the name. ‘Can we come in?’

  ‘I don’t have anything to say.’

  ‘That may be but we need to speak to you and your brothers. Are they in?’

  The gate opened behind them and Oliver, in running gear, appeared. He pulled up short. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We need to talk to you all.’

  ‘Charlie, fuck off out of the way and let them in,’ said Oliver, wiping sweat from his forehead.

  Charlie took a step backwards and let them in, and once they were inside, he muttered something inaudible to his brother, who responded with a sharp nod and took charge of the questioning.

  ‘What’s this about?’ he asked. He hadn’t yet shaved and his face was dark with stubble, his cheeks reddened by exertion. The brothers had similar muscular physiques: both clearly worked out. He picked up a grubby tea towel from the back of a chair and wiped his head and face with it.

  ‘Are Paul and Seth in?’

  ‘Paul’s at work,’ grunted Charlie.

  ‘And Seth? We’d like to talk to you all,’ Murray said. At over six foot he had height on the boys and was matched in terms of physical stature. He stared hard at Oliver, who eventually spun on his heel and left the room to get his brother. Charlie folded his arms, hostility still emanating from his pores.

  ‘How are you bearing up?’ asked Lucy, hoping to diffuse some of it. It worked.

  ‘We’re coping.’

  ‘Has PC Granger been around?’

  ‘Yeah, Tanya’s cool.’

  Lucy offered a smile. It was good he was on first name terms with the liaison officer.

  Oliver returned with Seth, a thin, pale beanpole next to his brother.

  ‘Hi Seth,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘We want to ask you about Habib Malik,’ said Murray, and he caught the look that flashed between Charlie and Seth. ‘You and he had some history, didn’t you? You didn’t get along.’

  ‘He’s a little turd.’ Charlie clenched and released his fists several times. He really had issues with the dead boy.

  Oliver leant against the table, tea towel in his hand, and maintained a silence.

  ‘Can you tell me what sort of thing he got up to that got you angry?’

  No one replied. Seth looked uncomfortable. Murray decided to push him.

  Seth, you got something you want to tell us?’

  The boy looked to Oliver for guidance. Oliver gave a little nod. ‘Go on. Tell them what you told me last night.’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago, I saw Roxy in the park with Tucker and Habib. They were all smoking and having a good laugh.’

  ‘How did it make you feel seeing your sister with them?’

  The fists clenched tight. ‘I wanted to hit them both.’

  ‘But you didn’t confront them?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘It made you angry. Is that right?’

  Seth nodded. ‘Yes. She knew they had it in for us but she was there with them. She even snogged Tucker.’

  ‘Did you tell your mother or Charlie about this incident?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’

  ‘He didn’t say anything until last night,’ repeated Oliver.

  ‘Did he tell you, Charlie?’ Murray asked. The boy shook his head. Murray turned his attention back to Seth.

  ‘Did you decide to confront Habib or Tucker alone? Maybe tell them to stay away from Roxy?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Even though you were angry with them?’

  ‘No! I told Roxy I’d seen her and she got mad at me. She said she didn’t give a shit what I thought about Tucker or Habib because she really liked them both, and if she wanted to go out with Tucker, it was her business.’

  ‘Where were you last night, Seth?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘What about you, Oliver?’

  ‘Charlie and I went out to the local gym and worked out then hung out with some of the guys we met there. Got back at about eleven. Seth was already in bed when we got back.’

  ‘Can you prove your whereabouts?’

  ‘Sure. We checked in at the gym at seven, did a two-hour session, and I can give you the names of the guys we were with after that. What’s this all about?’

  ‘All in good time,’ said Murray. ‘Seth, was Paul here with you?’

  ‘Only for a while but he kept bursting into tears over Mum and Roxy, so in the end, he went to the pub. He cries all the time. We can hear him at night. It’s horrible.’

  ‘It must be. It must be really difficult for you all,’ said Lucy, aware how still all the boys were, almost rooted to their individual spots, like rabbits in headlights. She wondered if it was a sign of guilt.

  ‘What did you do after Paul went out?’

  ‘Laid on my bed and thought about Mum and Roxy. I wished none of this had happened and everything would go back to how it was before.’

  ‘You didn’t go out at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t contact anyone or chat to anyone online?’

  ‘No. I don’t have many friends.’

  ‘Why do you all hate Tucker and Habib so much? What happened for you to fall out?’

  Charlie growled, ‘They’re scum.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  Oliver answered, ‘They sold drugs to schoolkids.’

  May 2014

  Habib spins around and kicks at an empty plastic bottle that is rattling around in the breeze. The park is empty apart from him and Tucker. It looks bleaker than ever today – paint peels from the swings, and the chains that hold them are rusted. The roundabout where Tucker now sits, propped against a gunmetal-grey bar, is covered in stains and graffiti etched into its wooden floor – a reminder of just how shit it all is here. Tucker stubs out his fag, adding to the stained floor, and says, ‘Look, it wasn’t our fault.’

  ‘Of course it was our fucking fault! We shouldn’t have got involved with Art.’

  ‘You wanted to do it too!’ Tucker snaps back and scowls at his friend.

  Habib studies his trainers, worn and shabby. He knows why he agreed to sell drugs for Art’s mob – because he wanted the money. Life has been the biggest crock of shit ever recently. He has no friends other than T
ucker and he’s really low. Mum’s not well and he has no idea if she’s got something serious or not. All he knows is he hates living in fucking Clearview. The money they get from Art helps make it more bearable. They can buy cigarettes and go to the arcade and generally lose themselves for a while.

  ‘Let’s not fall out over it,’ he says.

  ‘Good.’ Tucker hops from the roundabout and yanks on the rail, sending it spinning. He comes across and fist bumps his mate. ‘We weren’t to know it was bad. Besides, I heard Baz was going to be okay.’

  Baz is the boy who bought the E from them and ended up in hospital. At first they were scared rigid he’d die. However, it wasn’t their fault, they’d reasoned. Art was to blame. He’d given them the gear to sell and you didn’t argue with Art. He and his gang owned Clearview. It was their patch for dealing, and if he singled you out to do a few deals for him, you did it.

  ‘What do we do now? Own up?’ Habib asks.

  ‘You out of your fucking mind? We say nothing.’

  A shout takes them by surprise. ‘You two. We want a fucking word with you! You nearly killed Baz.’

  It’s Charlie and Seth Curtis. Charlie’s best mates with Baz and he’s one mean fucker.

  ‘Leg it!’ yells Tucker, and he sprints towards the far side of the park and a fence he knows he can jump over to reach the main road. Habib’s behind him and slower. The brothers are too quick for them, and Seth reaches Tucker with extraordinary speed, bowling him over. He pushes him against the grass with one strong hand. His face is scrunched up in anger. Seth lands a punch to his nose and pain explodes across his face.

  ‘You bastards. Baz is on life support thanks to you. You’re going to pay for this.’

  Tucker kicks out and twists and turns wildly to escape Seth, finally breaking free from him, and hurtles towards the road. Screams halt him in his tracks. Habib is curled into a ball by a tree and Charlie is kicking him with heavy boots, over and over again. Habib is begging him to stop but Charlie is apoplectic with rage, cursing and kicking simultaneously. Seth has doubled back and is joining in. Habib howls in agony.

  Tucker acts without thought. He thunders back towards the boys and jumps on Charlie’s back, tightening his grip around the boy’s throat until he starts pulling at Tucker’s hands. Tucker doesn’t let go. Charlie spins around to loosen the boy on his back but can’t shake him off. He’s choking and spluttering and Seth tries to assist but can’t and Tucker squeezes more tightly still until Charlie falls to his knees. Seth’s face is now pure concern.

  ‘Charlie?’ The fight has gone out of him. He’s worried about his brother, and still Tucker crushes Charlie’s windpipe until he sees Habib struggle to his feet, then he lets go and kicks Charlie hard in the crotch. Seth, concerned for his brother, doesn’t chase after them, and Tucker puts an arm around his friend and helps him hobble away towards the flats.

  Oliver finished recounting the story. ‘I wasn’t involved but I knew about it.’

  ‘This true?’ Murray asked Charlie and Seth, who nodded simultaneously. ‘Why didn’t any of you report it?’

  Charlie answered, ‘That’s not how we do things in Clearview. We look after our friends and family. Baz almost died. Seth and I handled it our way. Tucker and Habib were too scared of us after that to sell anything again.’

  ‘Do they sell drugs nowadays?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We don’t have anything to do with them.’

  ‘Do any of you take drugs?’

  ‘No fucking way!’ said Charlie, almost spitting out the words.

  Seth shook his head. ‘Never.’

  ‘What about medication for depression, Seth?’

  ‘I take Prozac.’

  ‘Ever tried Xanax?’

  ‘No. I was on Lexapro but Prozac suits me better. Doctor said not to mess with the meds or I could get worse, so I don’t.’

  ‘What about Roxy?’

  Seth looked towards Charlie, who gave a slight nod of his head. Taking it as a signal, Seth sighed heavily. ‘Yes, she took drugs – a bit of weed, the odd E, maybe other stuff.’

  Oliver shook his head sadly. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘How could you know? You’ve not been around for ages,’ said Charlie, accusingly. ‘You’ve been away nearly three years and we’ve probably only seen you half a dozen times.’

  ‘Are you having a go at me?’ said Oliver, squaring his shoulders.

  Murray prepared himself to break up a fight but Seth yelled at the pair. ‘Shut up! Just shut up, both of you.’

  Oliver’s eyes opened wide at the sudden outburst but he offered a quiet, ‘Sorry.’

  Charlie muttered an apology too.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ asked Oliver. ‘You going to charge these two for fighting with Habib and Tucker?’

  ‘No, but we would like to know all your movements last night.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked more cautiously.

  ‘Habib’s been killed.’

  Natalie finished speaking to Lucy and Murray. Oliver and Charlie Curtis’s whereabouts checked out. They’d been at the gym and then gone out with some of the guys they’d met at the gym – a couple of personal trainers who worked there. Seth, however, had no firm alibi and Paul had been at the local pub. The landlord had confirmed Paul had been in although he wasn’t certain what time he’d left.

  She told them to head home, dismissed Ian and clocked off herself for the day. As she gathered up her keys, she glanced at the time: it was six forty-five. It was much later than she’d hoped to leave. She had no appetite for the chicken salad waiting for her or a desire to sort out problems between Josh and David. She wanted to drop by the nightclub and see if she could speak to Kirk and Gavin Lang. She’d tried their phones again to no avail, but a barman at Extravaganza who’d answered her call to the nightclub had been certain they’d be returning from London around nine thirty, so first things first, she’d head home and see her family.

  Twenty-Seven

  Tuesday, 3 July – Evening

  A low murmur coming from the television set in the sitting room indicated at least one person was in.

  Natalie called a hello, hoping for some response, and heard a soft, ‘Hi, Mum!’ She headed towards it. Leigh was curled up on the settee in her favourite spot, hugging a large cushion. Emmerdale was drawing to a close. Leigh was addicted to soap operas and could not only name all the characters in every soap but knew every detail of their personal lives. If there were GSCEs in soaps, Leigh would pass with an A*. Natalie was way behind on the storylines but didn’t mind a half an hour of television drama that took her away from the real-life dramas she dealt with on a daily basis. She entered the room in time to find Leigh open-mouthed.

  ‘Good episode?’

  ‘Brilliant! I can’t wait to see what happens next.’ She lifted the control and flicked through the channels.

  ‘Josh in yet?’

  ‘I haven’t heard him.’ She tuned into BBC One. ‘You want to watch EastEnders?’

  ‘I’ll grab some food and come back.’

  Leigh snuggled further back into the settee like a contented dog. Natalie left her to it and trudged through to the kitchen.

  David appeared from nowhere. ‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ he said.

  ‘I shouted.’

  ‘Oh! There’s some salad in the fridge. It was a bit too warm to cook. I was going to do burgers but Josh went out.’

  ‘I heard. Leigh said there’d been an argument.’

  ‘That’s right. He’s getting too big for his boots.’

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘I don’t know. Alex’s, I guess.’

  She opened the fridge door and lifted out a plate of food. David had covered it with cling film for her. She peeled it off. David pulled open a drawer and passed her a knife and fork.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. Ever since he finished school, he’s morphed into a bolshie teenager. I can’
t get a full sentence out of him.’

  Natalie knew what he meant. Josh was becoming increasingly uncommunicative. ‘He’s probably concerned about his exam results. He’s got ages to wait until he gets the results and you know how much he wants to go to sixth form college,’ she reasoned. ‘His routine’s been broken and he’s probably missing it and his school friends.’

  ‘I can’t see that being the case. He talks to them every day. He’s never off the fucking Internet.’

  ‘Not the same as going to class with them and actually hanging out with them, is it?’

  ‘Bloody Internet! It’s killing communication skills and it’s full of dangers.’

  Natalie couldn’t face one of David’s rants. Once he started moaning, he’d not stop for ages. ‘That’s the world we live in, David. Kids today live online. Their friends are online. He’s sensible. He won’t be up to any trouble.’ She poured some salad cream onto the lettuce to make it more edible and ate a forkful. There was more to it than this. David was probably finding it increasingly difficult to connect with their son. Josh was growing up and away and coming to the end of his childhood. He’d just finished school and the next step would be A-levels and then university. ‘What was the argument about?’

  ‘About him being an idle toerag and staying in bed until after lunch.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She tried the chicken. It was dry and sucked all the moisture out of her mouth when she chewed it. She swallowed and washed down the lump with a mouthful of water.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Lazy shit. I wasn’t like that at his age.’

  ‘I suppose he thinks he has no reason to get up.’

  ‘Are you defending him?’

  ‘I’m reasoning why he might not feel like getting up.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re defending him. There’s no excuse for laziness. When I was his age, I used to be up at seven without fail. Holidays or not. My father wouldn’t stand for such idleness.’

  It seemed difficult to imagine Eric, David’s father, being so strict, but she let it go. David was pacing the kitchen, irked by the whole business.